


A Gaggle of Gasters

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Post-Pacifist Route, Sans deals with half a dozen reality-warping minigasters, dadster legion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>W. D. Gaster was shattered across time and space. It made sense for him to come back a little bit at a time, but Sans isn't sure what to do about it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gaggle of Gasters

Sans shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes closed at the too-bright morning coming in through the window. He stifled a yawn, scratching absently at his side.

“Good morning, Sans,” a deep voice said from the corner. Sans blinked and peered bleerily at the tiny black-and-white shape on the counter. It was just a mess of color in his half-asleep state, but then again, Gaster never looked fully formed even on a good day.

“Good morning, Sans,” came the chorus of other voices. Sans didn’t even look around; he heard one from on top of the refrigerator, one next to the microwave, and there was  _ always _ at least one on the ceiling fan. He didn’t know where the fifth one was.

He never saw the Gasters move, but most of them were in new places every time he turned around. Sure enough, when he closed the fridge door with a red bottle in hand and turned to walk to the table, he narrowly avoided tripping on a couple of Gasters that had decided to fawn over him up close.

When they were in his field of vision, the Gasters stayed perfectly still, their eyes following him, their heads never moving if he didn’t. Sans had tested it once, sitting still for two whole hours (an easy feat for him, though Papyrus berated all the skeletons involved), gazes locked with the dads that stared passively back at him, but none of them ever moved.

There were six now. A newcomer. He lifted the tiny Gaster out of the chair with one hand and placed him on top of the table. “Don’t sit there, Dad. Someone’ll sit on you and that would...probably make a mess.” He didn’t want to find out. Gaster’s half-melted body looked like it might pop at the barest amount of pressure, and he felt...soft. Malleable.

The new Gaster nodded at him sagely. The others followed suit.

Suddenly, the front door flew open and Papyrus jogged through. He’d taken to early morning runs ever since they got to the surface. He said the early light was “invigorating.” Sans thought it was irritating.

“Hey, Paps,” Sans called.

“BROTHER! YOU’RE AWAKE ALREADY??” Papyrus moved into the kitchen and looked stunned.

“Yeah. One of the Gasters was sitting on my face.”

“You looked troubled,” the guilty Gaster said.

“You looked troubled,” his companions repeated.

Sans waved it off with the ketchup bottle. He finally took a seat at the table and unscrewed the lid. He wasn’t about to talk about the actual contents of his dream, so he decided to spin something else instead. “I was dreamin’ about the word search from the other day. I dreamed I solved it, the exact same way I did in real life. You could say…”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes. “SANS, IT’S TOO EARLY, EVEN FOR ME!”

“...It was a dream come true.” Sans looked away and snickered at his brother’s exasperated groan.

“SANS, THAT WAS SIMPLY... _ NIGHTMARISH _ .”

“Aw, bro, I’d never  _ dream _ of telling you anything that bad.”

“SANS!!” Papyrus stomped. “I HAVE TO CONCENTRATE ON MY COOKING NOW!”

“Sure, sure, bro.” Sans chugged some ketchup. As much as he loved and supported his brother, he knew it was all he’d be able to eat until he could get to Toriel’s or Grillby’s.

The Gaster he’d set on the table watched the back and forth with quiet amusement and affection. All the fractions seemed to share equal amounts of the same personality traits, so he was sure all of them were observing the two with the same expression right now.

Papyrus made a monstrous amount of waffles for all the Gasters and passed the hot plates around the kitchen. The tiny fractions nibbled, but Sans didn’t know what they got from eating. He picked at his serving until Papyrus announced it was time to go to work. The Gasters, being tiny, couldn’t eat even half of one waffle, so there was a lot of uneaten food now.

Sans had the day off, so he figured he’d walk around town some, maybe wander by a place he could actually get some food. While he wasn’t looking, the Gasters clustered by his feet. He didn’t know what it looked like to anyone else who might see, but the gaggle of Gasters managed to follow him down the road. When he started humming an absent tune, they cheerily mimicked, though he admitted in a much creepier tone.

* * *

It had started about a week ago. Sans got up around noon, as per usual, and was on his way to the kitchen to get some wake-up-food for his soul when he was caught on something moving in the corner of the living room. Sometimes Paps took in stray animals, but he was already at work by now and had never left strays alone with Sans. Not out of distrust--he passed by an animal shelter on the way to work, so he took them with him.

If an animal was in the house right now, it had gotten in after Papyrus left, which was also impossible because Paps never forgot to shut the door. So when he saw the patch of moving white in the corner of his eye, Sans started just a little.

The thing huddled in the corner was tiny and appeared to have trouble keeping its physical form together. It was mostly black, save for its cracked white skull and two disfigured white shapes that were most likely hands. After a minute of staring hard at the thing, Sans sucked in a breath and stepped backwards. He had recognized the creature after some effort.

“D...dad,” he mumbled. “What…?”

Gaster smiled almost impossibly wide, stretching his half-melted face so hard Sans thought he might break it.

“You...this is…” Sans placed an index finger in his mouth and bared down, causing just enough pain to confirm he was awake. “...What the hell, Dad. You’re tiny.” Maybe it was that he was still half-asleep, or maybe it was because he knew time-space shenanigans could get pretty weird, but his father suddenly appearing registered as the least confusing thing at the moment. Or maybe he couldn’t comprehend how impossible it was, so he just accepted what he saw at face value and focused on things he was capable of questioning.

Gaster laughed softly. The sound was distorted, but Sans heard his words clearly enough. “Yes...my soul...was shattered,” he said. “Across time and space...so, there isn’t enough of me...to make my whole body.”

“Okay,” Sans replied. “That makes sense, I guess.” Now that the shock had worn off and he’d woke up a little more, he realized how happy he was at this impossible event occurring. It might have meant that something went wrong with the timeline, could have evidenced some irreversible Bad Thing happening to time itself, but at the moment, Sans was just a boy who was overjoyed to see his father again. “...Paps is gonna freak out.”

Papyrus had been a baby when the  _ incident _ happened. Sans was the only one who remembered Gaster even existed, and he didn’t know if Papyrus could have or not if he’d been older.

That evening, when Papyrus returned home, Sans tried to deliver the news as simply as he could.

“...SO THAT’S WHY WE DIDN’T HAVE A FATHER? WHY DOESN’T ANYONE REMEMBER HIM BUT YOU, SANS?” Papyrus asked. He hadn’t moved from his place on the sofa for the past hour. Gaster sat next to him, beaming up at his face. Papyrus returned the look with one of perplexed curiosity and, of course, extreme friendliness.

Sans shrugged. He was on the other side of the small Gaster. “Dunno. You might have, if you’d been older, but you were a baby. I think it’s because we have pieces of his soul.”

Gaster looked between them. “I am very happy,” he said, his distorted voice tugging at the inside of Sans’ ribcage at this close. Despite being very small, he made a huge depression in the couch, bigger than either of the larger skeletons. Yet, when Sans had picked him up to place him there, he’d been very light and almost marshmallow-like.

Papyrus bolted upright and clapped his hands together. “OH!!! THIS IS INCREDIBLY DIRE!”

“What’s the matter, bro?” Sans asked.

“HE’S MISSED ALL OF MY BIRTHDAYS!” Papyrus exclaimed, looking down at his small father with intense worry. “AND I HAVE MISSED MANY FATHER’S DAYS! YOU TOO, SANS! WE NEED TO MAKE UP FOR IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!”

Sans looked at Gaster, who was, at the moment, spending more time struggling not to let a piece of his arm fall off than paying attention to what Papyrus was saying. He looked frustrated because of it, too.

“I dunno if throwing a huge party at him right now is the best thing, Paps. He probably needs rest.”

“OH, YES! THAT TOO! WE WILL NEED TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS FOR HIM.”

They eventually decided on washing one of the pet beds Papyus kept for stray cats and dogs and designating it as Gaster’s. Sans thought it was kind of weird to have his dad sleep in a pet bed, but their house was small and he seemed all right with it. Gaster was probably all right with anything now that he existed again.

Papyrus stayed up later than usual asking Gaster all sorts of questions; what was life like back then, what was Sans like as a little kid, did he like pasta and if so what was his favorite kind??

Sans chuckled to himself and went to bed despite having his own burning questions. He supposed they were better saved for a later time--it must have been traumatic, all these years, and he had no idea what sort of effort Gaster had to go through just to get here, so it was best to leave the hard stuff be for right now.

The next morning, he awoke and immediately noticed the black-and-white puffy thing on his windowsill. Gaster seemed to be surveying the garbage strewn about the room, but when Sans’ eyesockets lit up, his cracked visage turned to him and did not leave.

Sans felt just the tiniest bit unnerved but tried to push it aside. “Dad? How’d you get in here?” He was sure he’d locked the door, and even if he hadn’t, Gaster was too short to reach the knob. Unless he could phase through walls or something, which made sense now that he thought about it.

Gaster merely tilted his head.

“Uh...if you needed something, you could’ve knocked.” Sans got out of bed, picked up the deformed skeleton, and placed him on his shoulder for quicker transport.

Sans dully remembered Papyrus shouting at him to get up a few hours ago. Maybe he let Gaster in then?

His confusion was compounded when he walked downstairs and saw Gaster sitting on top of the TV. Even though Gaster was on his shoulder. Sans looked at one and then the other. Back and forth.

“There are many soul-shards,” TV-Gaster offered.

“Many soul-shards indeed,” Shoulder-Gaster echoed.

“So, there are many Gasters…”

“Many Gasters…”

“Oh. Heh…” Sans glanced away. “Papyrus is gonna be double-thrilled! Now we got two dads. And probably more.”

He felt guilty at the dread gathering in his ribcage. His father was back--they were a family again! He should have been ecstatic! He just couldn't stop thinking about how many there could potentially be.

* * *

But now it was barely a week later and they were on their sixth Gaster and Sans knew it was going to become a problem sooner or later. Every time he paused, the Gasters would cluster around his legs and with each new addition he was finding it more difficult to untangle himself. Scolding the Gasters seemed to do no good; maybe they couldn’t help themselves from clinging to him or Papyrus, who contained pieces of his soul and whose childhoods he had missed.

They’d went with Papyrus to work, once, and came back looking haggard and almost ill. Paps almost never stopped moving, so Sans supposed, as the Gasters struggled to keep up, they overexerted themselves. When they were at the house it was fine--they would linger wherever they wished--but being out in the big world must have been frightening for a man--men?--who had been so long confined to crushing, dark nonexistence.

Sans found himself at Toriel’s, just in time for lunch. He sat across from Frisk, who was already halfway through a PB&J sandwich and a small helping of chisps. The flower was on the table near them and he glared and glared and glared at the gathering of black shapes on and around Sans.

Even Flowey was rendered speechless by them. Maybe that was one of Gaster’s powers--and an incredibly useful one.

When Toriel saw the Gasters for the first time, she’d seemed much more unnerved than Sans, but now she smiled warmly at each of them and offered them a couple of chisps each, knowing they didn’t eat much. The new arrival didn’t escape her notice.

“Oh my! They just keep coming, don’t they?” Toriel said as she gave chisps to the last Gaster. He broke off a small piece, held it with both hands and bit off a near-imperceptibly tiny portion of it.

“Yeah. Papyrus says we can’t throw the party until he’s certain there’s no more of ‘em, either.”

“Party?” Frisk asks around a mouthful of sandwich.

“He says we gotta make up for missed birthdays and father’s days and the such,” Sans said.

Flowey’s expression had increasingly darkened. His frown twisted into a despicable smile. “He won’t ever be whole again. Just think of how many shards there might be!”

Sans’ face twitched. As usual, Frisk played mediator.

“There are probably a lot,” they said, and smiled. “But that means it’ll be a really big party!”

“Yep,” Sans sighed, leaning back in the chair.

He left the house after getting some proper nutrition in him, and after some wandering eventually ended up back at his and Paps’ place. Part of him was anxious about finding more Gasters--they’d always only showed up in the house, and only when one or both of the brothers were there. Sans didn’t try to understand it.

He was just glad his dad(s) didn’t say weird stuff anymore. The first time Frisk had met the Gasters--there were only two at that time--one leaned forward and whispered in a warping, croaking voice, “Have you ever tasted the enigma of death?”

“Dad, what the heck?” Sans startled in his seat.

“It’s fine,” Frisk said with a smile. Perhaps they could tell he wasn’t...adjusted. “I have, but I can save and reload, so it’s fine.”

“Save and reload,” one Gaster said. The other echoed his words.

And then there was that time a couple of days ago when Sans and Gaster-gaggle ran into Asgore on the way to his hotdog stand. The Gasters, then numbering four, started hissing and puffing up incredulously at the king as though angry...or frightened.

Asgore fretted, looking guiltier than he deserved. Even if Sans tried to explain the full situation, there was no way the goat monster would remember whatever offense he had committed against his former Royal Scientist. Maybe Gaster blamed Asgore for what happened. Maybe they hadn’t gotten along in the first place. Either way, Sans couldn’t get answers out of the bunch about it and had given up. He tried to just roll with their eccentric behavior but always hoped it didn’t crop up.

Back at the house, Sans mostly dozed on the sofa while the Gasters flickered here and there. Every time he blinked they were someplace different. Items would sometimes be moved from their places wherever the Gasters lighted, and not just a couple of inches so the fraction of a man could stand there. The TV remote ended up inside the microwave yesterday.

“SANS!!” Papyrus’s voice roused him from his half-napping state. Usually he would mumble a reply and go back to sleep, but his brother was so excited about something that he got up right away.

“Whu’isit Paps?” he asked, pulling himself to the front door and opening it. He went wide-eyed at what he saw.

Papyrus’s smile was as big as ever. Five Gasters were in his arms, and when Sans glanced back into the room to do a quick head-count, he knew they had eleven now. “THEY WERE JUST SITTING HERE! I THINK THEY WERE WAITING TO BE LET IN!”

Sans sighed. In his mind, he imagined trying to navigate a kitchen--no, a whole house--so full of Gasters it appeared to be completely black. The interior would just be one big marshmallowy mass. “Okay, we gotta start putting serious thought into how to put you guys back together.”

The Gasters tilted their heads and said nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> i got this idea while reading some Gaster!fics on this site. i was like "but what if instead of coming back as one BIG Gaster, he became multiple TINY GASTERS INSTEAD??"  
> i am sleepy so this probably needs editing but yeah
> 
>  
> 
> PS: writing just the implication of Sans having nightmares was kind of sad for me this skeleton does not need to suffer any further


End file.
